It was the fifth banquet in one week and quite likely the reason why the Rohirrim had not yet left for their homeland, though their hosts were beginning to drop growingly obvious hints about their welcome drawing to an end. Oh, not King Elessar - his hospitality, it seemed, knew no end - but the inhabitants of the White City in general were growing weary of their guests, with their resonating laughter and loud attitude. Really, it was all very well for them to have come and saved Minas Tirith from certain doom, but a visit is a visit and, as Eomer King had said, it was time for them to go.

One Gondorian not to share this opinion, though, was the young Steward, who was seated at the King's right-hand side and distractedly fingering his goblet, his eyes watching one of the foreigners sitting a distance away from him - the Lady Éowyn, who was currently leading a heated discussion with one of the local stable boys about the care of horses' coats. He was just thinking to himself how endearingly pink her cheeks became when angered when his rêverie was brutally interrupted by the sight of the man beside her: the King of Rohan, her brother. The look on his face was so full of rage that Faramir found himself hurriedly breaking the eye contact and staring at his plate studiously, feeling both embarrassed and guilty. Eomer had been an intimidating enough man even before he had discovered of the attachment which existed between his sister and the Steward. Faramir quickly turned his attention towards Elessar and the conversation he was having with the cheerful hobbit to his left – Samwise, was it not?

During the remainder of the evening, he was very careful to not do so much as glance in Éowyn's direction, though he sorely wished he could. At times he would furtively assess Eomer King's mood, but it remained sour throughout the meal. Faramir cursed himself for having been so indiscreet in his admiration for the Lady of Rohan, for as a consequence it appeared that matters in the battle which was obtaining Eomer's blessing had taken a turn for the worse.

As the feast drew to an end, and the King of Rohan had retired after muttering something in his sister's ear, probably 'Hurry up, it's bedtime now', or 'Stay away from that Steward, he's a reputed murderer' (or something to that effect, Faramir was certain), he himself took leave of King Elessar and made to go.

A hand clasped firmly on his shoulder just as he walked through the archway stopped him.

"You ignored me all meal," came a familiar yet still delightful voice, heavy with reproach. He turned to face Éowyn, who wore an expression nearly as fearsome as her brother's previous one.

"I did not wish to do so, but I feared discretion was necessary," he replied coolly. His beloved was spirited and loud, an exemplary Shieldmaiden of Rohan, and thus caution was not an prominent part of her personality when dealing with other human beings. One of her favourite activities, a habit which she had adopted while residing in Gondor, was to exchange meaningful looks with Faramir whenever eye contact was possible but speech not so. He himself enjoyed the game, but it would have proved disastrous if played during that banquet, with Eomer watching them like a hawk.

"Oh? And since when is the Steward of Gondor careful of discretion?" What? He had always been discreet! He was the quiet, pensive one– Boromir had been the rasher of the two of them, but he was ever careful! ... Was he not? Anyhow, the comment ruffled his pride.

"I always have been! But – that is not the point. My lady, I felt the particular need for vigilance tonight, as your brother, the King of Rohan, did not seem thrilled to find my gaze fixed upon you."

As Éowyn came to understand what the situation had been, she slowly nodded and formed an O with her mouth.

"Indeed. Hm. Well, it does not matter. He has always been overprotective of me, though never to the point of actual usefulness. I shall speak to him." She grinned ruefully. "And then we shall have visual discussions whenever we please."

Eomer decided that the situation he currently found himself in did not fall into the category of 'speaking' with his sister, although that had been her request. He was not certain what it was exactly, but it involved angry words and sharp objects being flung at him, and he found himself resisting the urge to flee the scene. Anyway, turning his back on Éowyn and her projectiles was not a concept which went hand in hand with survival.

"You selfish bastard!" she screeched, abandoning her previous tactic to pummel at his chest with her surprisingly painful fists. Eomer seized her wrists firmly, not wishing to hurt her but also following automatic self-preservation instincts, effectively holding her more still than she had been all morning.

"Éowyn! Please, calm down. I only want to have a rational discussion with you."

"And I only want for you to leave me and Faramir alone!" she retorted angrily. He sighed, keeping his own temper at bay, though it was being continuously provoked.

"What is it about the Steward, Éowyn? For goodness' sake, why does everything have to come back down to him?"

"Because you will not consent to our marriage!" she hissed. Disgusted, Eomer released her from his grasp and began to pace a distance away from her.

"Why are you so bent on making this difficult for me?"

"You are the only party making anything difficult." After several moments' thought, Eomer looked up, his face set as his mind was.

"You belong with your people."

"I knew you would say that."

"If you knew it, then why ever did you accept Faramir in the first place?"

"Because I love him!"

The words hung in the air, raw and desperate, the last stand of what had been a fierce tirade. They stung Eomer, for he could hear the sincerity in them, and somehow the manner in which her voice broke over the last syllable filled him with guilt. But he reasoned that, even though she had cast him as the villain, what he was enforcing was for her own good. Therefore when he spoke again, it was sternly, and authoritarian.

"If you will not accept the advice of a brother, then obey the orders of your King. You may not remain in Gondor. You will return with us to Edoras when we go."

And with that, he left the chamber.

Éowyn did not believe she had ever been so deliberately spiteful in her relatively short life. As begging Faramir to act rashly had come to no avail - though she personally believed that a clandestine marriage was both ingenious and thrilling - she had set about to render Eomer's life as difficult as possible. She actually found it an entertaining way of taking revenge, for one could visibly notice the effect her attitude had on him; while all of Minas Tirith, both Rohirrim eager to return of home, and Gondorians glad to be rid of their guests, was in high spirits, Eomer remained sour.

However her attempts to irritate her brother into approval proved fruitless, and she found herself seated in Faramir's study the evening before her departure, painfully disappointed. The Steward was sorting through papers, while in her mind she mulled over her tedious everyday life in Rohan.

"Éowyn." She glanced up. She had not noticed that he had stopped turning pages and that his eyes were now riveted upon her.

"I shall... be very sorry to watch you go, tomorrow," he said, wearing an expression she found attractively pained - he was distraught that she should leave, and the attention made her feel wanted - yet frustratingly resigned.

"Perhaps I will not," she replied. He laughed half-heartedly.

"I am certain that your brother will personally search the entire city if you do not show in the morn'," he said.

"He shall have to drag me the whole way to Edoras."

"That would be a waste of everyone's time..."

"You do not want to marry me," she accused sulkily, annoyed by his surrender.

"What? No! Of course I do! Éowyn, where are you getting such ideas?" replied Faramir, quite shaken by her statement.

"Well, you seem content enough for me to go away!" She rose to her feet, the frustration and anger which had been building up within her over the past weeks spilling out. She did not want to take it out on him, but she felt so helpless, so oppressed - she could not help it.

"I just told you I am sorry that is the case!"

"But not enough to actually do something about it! You will wave me farewell and be sad for a day and then move on and find another bride, and I will be too far away to do anything!"

"For goodness' sake, Éowyn, do not say that." She was surprised to feel his lips crash against hers, and effectively chose to obey his order to stop speaking. Determined never to let go of him, she locked her arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss, but all too soon he broke the spell and pulled away, leaving her starving for more. He gazed into her eyes, and she unexpectedly found tears in his own. Guilt stabbed at her heart for having made such dramatic accusations about him.

"Éowyn, I will wed none but you. And if that means never marrying, then so be it; but I will have you know that I have every intention of making you my bride. You may not like it, but time will be of the best use to us in this predicament."

She nodded slowly, feeling her own eyes grow heavy with tears she did not want to fall. She was going to leave the next day, she could no longer deny it, but along with the acceptance of her fate came the desperation of parting with Faramir, which until then she had suppressed with futile hope.

"I will miss you," she said quietly. Her actions had been rash, immature, foolish, and there all along Faramir had had it right. She felt as she had during their first encounter, inexperienced and silly beside his wisdom.

"As I will you. Write to me when you arrive in Edoras, will you?" "I doubt my brother will be pleased for me to keep contact with you..."

"Well, then, you shall have to be very discreet about it, because if I do not receive any news from you I shall be very much obliged to ride out myself to confirm that you are well." At this Éowyn grinned, for she quite enjoyed the idea of him travelling all the way to Edoras to set his fears about her at rest.

"Expect very long and tedious letters from me, in that case," she answered playfully.

"No word written by you could ever be tedious, I assure you." She rolled her eyes at his disastrously romantic comment and reached up to resume their kiss, which she had felt unfairly cheated out of. Faramir consented most willingly. By the time they detached themselves from each other, the hallways were empty and all of the City (excepting the night watch, naturally) slumbered.